


A Little Stain's Nothing to Me

by orphan_account



Category: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-10
Updated: 2011-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lamenting about some girl is no excuse to let yourself go for months. Would she have accepted you for a villain? She was a good Samaritan, a flighty little thing and you never stood a chance. Hammer's cracked and you're infamous, and it's all that matters. Dr. Horrible, a new age of evil to plague the world; they won't stand a chance.</p><p>(You're the one who's cracked, the Billy in you knows and the first thing he did to fill in the gaps was to drop dye into that washer and watch his coat tumble and try not to cry when he remembered the way she loved the smell of fabric softener.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Stain's Nothing to Me

_"He's dangerous."_

 _"Evil, you know."_

 _"Completely insane."_

 _"Killed the Hammer's girlfriend, I hear."_

 _"His ray incapacitated Hammer. Crazy bugger."_

 

"Billy?" Moist snaps his fingers and Billy jolts, hand drawing a jagged ink line across the notebook in front of him. The pages are frayed and more than a few are tearing from the flimsy metal spiral holding it all together. His notebook; all of his plots, his evil devices and musings. He could turn back two pages and find the outline for his freeze ray neatly scrawled and labeled as if it were drawn only yesterday, when it's been nearly two months since he perfected it. What is he doing, anymore? His desk is overrun with granola bar wrappers and sticky frozen yogurt cups and room-temperature coffee cups, his notebook and the surrounding area a float amongst the sea of garbage.

"Yes?" He finds his voice raspy, sits back and rubs his face, cheeks scritchy with stubble. Eyebrows raised, lips set, he awaits his sweaty-sidekick to respond. He only stares. "What _is it_ , Moist? I've got to finish this outline for Bad Horse or I'm outta-"

"Nothing, dude." He shakes his head and Billy hears him mutter something that he can't even muster up enough horrible to snap about. The door shuts soon after and he spins 'round in his chair, staring at the stand for his new red uniform.

 _"Penny?!"_

 _"Billy?"_

 _"Hold on, hold on, everything's going to be okay-"_

 _"It's alright. It's -chhrhc- alright..."_

Spinning back to his desk, he thumbs the marred sheet before him, flipping it over and taking up his pen. A wrapper flutters to the floor. His computer whirs softly under his desk. Just as before, his mind is completely blank. There's no one to hear it when he says, "You know what makes someone truly evil? It's no PhD in Horribleness." He starts scratching out an outline for Bad Horse. "Every villain has blood on his hands." He stops, looks over his shoulder at the suit.

"I just happened to get some on my suit, too."


End file.
